Random Thoughts
by One Schim
Summary: Just some random thoughts by Gordon ... although .. depends on what you consider 'random'. My collection of little stories set in different parts of the game.
1. Hell's own backyard

_This has been playing in my head for a long time, and has been on my computer for an equally long time. It's my first try at a half-life fanfic. Please note that whilst I consider my english to be very good, it's not my native language. So if I have made any grammatical errors, forgive me._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Half-Life (would be nice though ^_^)_

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**Hell's own Backyard**

You know, once in a while a man would like to stand on the doorstep of a house and see a nicely cut front lawn with daisy on the sides, a sprinkler giving the grass its much needed water, and a nice car standing on the driveway. Looking out from that doorstep and seeing not a cloud in the sky nor hearing any noise, aside from the sprinkler and some kids having fun at the neighbours'. Joe, the neighbour, would call out and say "Nice day to go out, huh?" and he would reply to him "Sure is." before moving to the car and driving off to a day with no worries.

No, today was not such a day; yesterday was neither. And neither will be tomorrow or any other day that will come. Because the view Gordon Freeman had from the doorstep of the house was one of pure apocalypse. No nicely cut front lawn, but asfalt with smoking pits. No daisies on the sides, but broken glass and a rebel's body. No car on the driveway, but an APC with screeching wheels, firing off its pulse fire at some rebels hiding behind a block of debris. He wasn't in suburbia; he was in what was called City 17 with the thump of striders firing at fleeing rebels and the whine of gunships spiralling down as the background noise.

It was almost deafening. And if it hadn't been for Joseph, a rebel, Gordon would have been a permanent part of what once surely had been a nicely cut front lawn.

He was cruelly forced out of his short daydream when someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him back into the safety of the hallway. Mere seconds later, all that was left of the doorstep was nothing but a piece of smoking rubble.

"You gotta look out, doc. Those striders mean business!" Joseph said to him as he dusted himself off. He offered Gordon a hand, and pulled him back up, small parts of the doorstep falling off of him in the process.

The infamous Doctor Freeman looked a bit shaken, his glasses askew from the shockwave of the impact. Without saying a word, he nodded, and looked Joseph in the eyes.

"Thank you," was the only thing he said before he turned around, gripped his Pulse Rifle a bit tighter, checked his ammo, took one final breath, and leaped over the still smouldering doorstep into hell's own backyard.

Joseph couldn't take his eyes off the good doctor as the latter made his way to the other side of the street, dodging random pulsefire. A smile began to appear and hope began to form in his heart. That was the man that would save them all! The man the Vorts had said would be coming to make an end to this entire ordeal. It was almost over; they just had to make sure that they lived to see the day in which humankind was once again free to do what they wanted, walk where they wanted, eat what and where they wanted. _My god … I sound like this corny soap opera throwing clichés for grabs._

He cleared his head and unconsciously began imitating Gordon Freeman, as though the ritual would give him more protection: he gripped his pulserifle a bit tighter, checked his ammo, took one final breath and leaped over the still smoldering doorstep.

He zigzagged around the holes in the road to the other side, where he could see Freeman still hiding behind a big chunk of wall. As he looked at him, he saw Freeman shouting something over at him. _What is he yelling? _Joseph could only see Freeman's mouth moving, but didn't hear what was coming out of it. He was so focused on trying to hear what Freeman said that he had stopped zigzagging and was running straight at him. Now he could clearly see that Freeman was yelling, "nooooooo" at him. _What the …_ he thought as he turned his head to see a strider firing a volley at him. It was the last thing that he would ever see.

As the force of the volley hit Joseph, he was catapulted away, leaving a shocked Freeman behind, hand outstretched as though he could grab Joseph's hand and save him. But he couldn't.

No, Joseph was yet another rebel fighter that had died trying to help the great Doctor Freeman fight the combine. He was yet another of so many already; too many.

Freeman clenched his teeth as he saw the limp body of Joseph lying on what once had been a street. He bowed his head and slowly shook it. Enough! Enough already! He was tired of these rebels coming to his fictional banner and trying to help him. All they ever did to help him was to serve as cannon fodder so that he would suffer fewer injuries. They didn't have a HEV suit that would protect them. All it took was a well-aimed bullet and it was all over for them. Hazardous. Environment. Suit. It's all in the name. Like a bulletproof vest absorbing the impacts.

Gordon shifted his weight from one knee to the other. He slowly looked over the piece of wall to see two striders walking along the burned down remains of an appartment building, shooting at rebels who dared to come out of their hiding spot to take aim at the damned things.

The striders were backed up by Overwatch soldiers who were shooting down on the rebels from higher up, hidden behind the many windows of the building's facades. Second floor, third window from the right: two soldiers. Third building, white exterior, second floor, first window from the left: one soldier. Undoubtedly, more were hiding out of sight until he or a rebel passed by.

As he was checking his ammo, an odd observation suddenly struck him; he had not yet encountered any anti-Freeman graffiti on the walls yet, like he had in Black Mesa. Maybe the fact that these Overwatch soldiers did not have any feelings left anymore had something to do with it… yeah, that must be it. They were not supposed to feel any hatred or resentment like the soldiers back then surely must have felt.

Gordon grabbed his crossbow that he kept slinged on his back. He charged it with a bolt and carefully aimed it as soldier #1. Remembering the advice he had received from a rebel upon shouldering the weapon, he inhaled, kept his breath, slowly exhaled, and pulled the trigger. A few seconds later the noise of an Overwatch soldier flatlining and falling out of the window prooved his hit.

Unfortunately, the two other ones had heard this as well and changed their aim from rebels hiding in an old grocery shop to Freeman. He quickly pulled his head and the rest of his exposed body back to safety behind the chunk of wall. This was going to be troublesome, and definitely not easy.

He checked the stats of his HEV suit and nodded to himself; still enough to survive this, but he would have to be careful. Judging from the amount of destruction in this particular part of town, he would almost have to be like a combination of spiderman and superman to escape unscathed.

He glanced back at the two soldiers and saw that they had shifted their aim back at the grocery shop. _I can't stay here forever._ Gordon sighed and by chance, he looked back at the entrance of the building he had come out of, only to see a team of 4 rebels standing inside it.

Just as he was looking at them, they were looking at him. And, as was always the case, he could see their eyes lighting up and the woman up front was mouthing "Follow Freeman!!" while pointing at him. (at least, that had to be it; what else would they say when seeing that Gordon Freeman was at the other side of the road, crouching behind a chunk of wall, with striders firing at everything that dared to move?)

That was it; his moment of solitude was over. A small grunt escaped his lips as he shouldered the crossbow and took out his AR2 pulserifle. There was no way that he was going to let another four rebels die in his wake. While the rebels were still crossing the street, he charged ahead, sprinting from cover to cover to avoid the deadly volleys from the striders and trying to attract the attention from the Overwatch soldiers in the appartments above him.

It worked amazingly well… too well. His orange suit was to the Combine what a red banner was to a spanish bull; it attracted them. He couldn't blame them; their primary order was to 'shoot Anticitizen One on sight'.

He sighed... _That horse statue better not be too far away anymore_**. **

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_So, that was it. Let me know what you thought of it! I might add some more chapters as I've still got some other ideas. _


	2. The House on the Cliff

_The grammar and spelling errors have been corrected in chapter one (thank you Akiqueen!), so I present to you chapter two, about double the length of chapter one. enjoy!_

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**The House on the Cliff  
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It almost felt normal, cruising around on a deserted road with not a cloud in the sky. You only had to ignore the occasional antlion coming at you or the Combine soldier doing his utmost to score the ultimate hit. Gordon Freeman sat in his buggy, en route for Nova Prospect on the dangerous route known as Highway 17. He had already been driving for several hours, blasting through Combine patrols and reducing antlions to mangled heaps of flesh.

He had passed Little Odessa and was on his way to Lighthouse Point. But the rebels had warned him that it was a long way, especially with the terrible state the highway was in after years of neglect and antlion burrowing.

After he had passed yet another tunnel, he saw a house standing on a cliff overlooking the beach. He stopped the buggy to take a closer look at it before driving into another trap. It looked deserted, but so had that last house until he had practically bumped into a Combine soldier while turning a corner. If he would have been able to see the soldiers face, his reaction would have been one of 'f*cking hell!', but these Overwatch soldiers didn't have any emotions anymore and they wore those hideous masks, so instead he had received a rather painful punch with the bottom of a pulse rifle which had sent him flying.

Gordon carefully rubbed his cheek where the rifle had hit him. That encounter had only been two hours ago and already it didn't hurt anymore. If he had a mirror close by, he would have been able to see that the bruising had already subsided from a dark blue to a faint green. Something that in normal circumstances (with no HEV suit) would take at least a few days to heal.

He got out of the buggy and walked over to the other side of the road, careful not to step too close to the edge; it was a long way down. Crouching down into the wet grass, he took his crossbow and pointed it at the house, activating the zoom the weapon had. He couldn't see any Combine or rebels for that matter. It was just another abandoned house on Highway 17, like those he had passed already too much. He lowered the gun, but didn't get up. The sun was setting, and even in this desolate landscape, it looked beautiful. The orange was unlike anything he had ever seen before, probably due to whatever the Combine were pumping into Earth's atmosphere. He savoured the moment for just a little while longer, while he still could.

After the sun had begun to sink into the ocean, he pointed the crossbow at the house again. Maybe he had missed something, so it didn't hurt to double check, just to be on the safe side rather than on the sorry one.

As he went over the windows of the house and on to the little shed next to it, he saw the tip of something black behind the shed. Immediately zooming in, he couldn't suppress a curse. It was a headcrab canister. So there had been rebels there; and they had undoubtedly either been replaced by zombies or made it out alive. Gordon hoped for the latter. He quickly scanned for any other canisters, but couldn't find any. If there were more, then they weren't visible from where he was.

He got to his feet and slung the crossbow over his shoulder. As he walked back to his buggy, he noticed that it was becoming dark rather quickly. His buggy didn't have any headlights, and remembering the many deep gaps in the highway (or even the entire sections of road missing), he suddenly realised that it might be a very good idea to stop for the night. It wouldn't help Eli or the resistance if he crashed his buggy because he wasn't able to see where he was driving.

He eased himself into the driver's seat and put his hands on the steering wheel. There wasn't a lot of time left before it became too dark to see a hand in front of your face. One headcrab canister meant that there would be four headcrabs in the vicinity of the house. Depending on how many rebels had not been able to escape, he would not only have to deal with headcrabs (the least of his worries right now), but also with a maximum of four zombies. Gordon nodded to himself; he had dealt with worse.

Although … everything could change if one or all four of the headcrabs were poison ones. He winced as he remembered Ravenholme. How he absolutely hated those little black critters. Normal ones he could deal with, but every time he heard that distinctive noise, chills ran through him and it took all of his mental power not to panic. He had been bitten by one inRavenholme, and it had almost killed him if it hadn't been for Father Grigori.

He looked at the sun disappearing behind the horizon and knew he'd better make it quick.

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Twenty years of neglect had taken its toll on the house. A lot of the windows were boarded up, and as far as he could see, there wasn't a single glass window that was still intact anymore. The wind was playing with the boards and the paint was mostly gone, leaving the wood unprotected against the elements.

His priority was sweeping the house and killing everything inside that posed a threat to him, as he had to spend the night there. He'd rather not have a headcrab sneak up on him and try to couple with his head. Gordon grabbed his shotgun and filled it up with shells. Eight should do the job.

He made his way to the front door as quietly as possible, trying to discern any noises coming from the house. But the only thing he could hear was the whistling of the wind through the many broken windows. He grabbed the shotgun with both hands and pumped two shells in the loading chamber. One hand went to the doorknob while he made sure that the shotgun was still pointing wherever his eyes would go. He slowly opened the door but its hinges made more noise than he cared for.

The hallway was empty, so he quickly scanned the adjacent rooms for any headcrabs, but all he found was broken furniture and spent shotgun shells on the floor: memories of a past battle.

There was a couch in middle of the big living room and, as he approached it, he saw a pair of feet coming out from behind it. His fingers tightened around the barrel of the shotgun and he went behind it to see whom the feet belonged to. It was a Cmbine soldier. Crouching down, he looked at the body to see what he had died of, and sure thing, many small pellets punctured the bulletproof vest, the proof that a blast from a shotgun had hit him. But had this occurred before or after the house had been shelled? There was no way he could tell, and at this moment it was not one of his major concerns.

The ground floor proved to be clean and Gordon made his way to the first floor, carefully putting down his feet on the flight of stairs, trying hard to make the least bit of sound possible. But these boards were old, and with every step he took they protested beneath his foot. As he reached the first floor, he heard a faint noise; one he recognised all too well: a headcrab. The noise was coming from the left-hand room. But before he entered it, he quickly scanned the big, open bedroom: no zombie and no headcrabs, but it was eerily quiet in there. Even the wind had stopped whistling through the windows. It was as though everything was holding its breath for what was to come. He didn't like the feeling it gave him.

He entered the room and saw the little bugger in the far right corner, next to the console. For now, it hadn't noticed him and Gordon was going to make sure that it never did. He pulled the trigger and yellow blood spurted out of the headcrab. The impact sent it flying to the other corner, but the wail coming from the dying headcrab wasn't the only noise he heard. He quickly turned around and saw a zombie, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, its claws outstretched, begging for fresh meat. He raised his shotgun again to fire off a shot, but the zombie was faster than him and threw one of the chairs at Gordon. It shattered as it hit Gordon's shotgun that he had held defensively in front of him. He staggered backwards, but recovered quickly. Pointing the gun at the zombie, he pulled the trigger. The impact slowed it down a bit, but it hadn't been killed by the shot. Gordon pumped another two shells into the loading chamber, the sound of the ones falling on the ground ignored by both. He pulled the trigger another two times, and the second shot ripped the headcrab right of the head of the zombie, killing it in the process.

One headcrab and one zombie dead, which meant that only two were left. Two zombies or two headcrabs, or another combination of these two.

Gordon recharged the four spent shells in his shotgun and moved into the bedroom. He found a rebel laying on the bed, his chest ripped open by the claws of a zombie and his face forever contorted by fear and anguish. Before he walked over to the bed, he kneeled down and looked underneath it. There were no headcrabs or any other surprises, but a pack of shotgun shells. He moved over to the bed and reached out with his hand to grab the shells, when he suddenly froze mid-action, hand still outstretched. The noise he had just heard made the hairs on his neck stand up. _You have got to be kidding me…_ He forgot about the shells and retreated into the nearest corner, eyes darting to every inch of the room. _Where is the f*ck is it?_ His breathing became shallow and fast as a wave of panic hit over him. Poison headcrabs! And by the sound of it, it wasn't alone; it was accompanied by a low moan, which could only mean that one of those superzombies was in the house. Flashes of Ravenholme and the crazy laughter of Father Grigori resounded in his ears. _Maybe Barney is right, and I have the worst luck in the world. _

But these superzombies were made up of four poison headcrabs, so where had the other two come from? He must have missed one canister; there must've been another one. Oh god, how could he have been so careless? Before he had entered the house, he should have made a sweep of the surroundings first. But it was too late for that now.

By now, he had seen that the headcrab wasn't on this floor. If it had been, then he wouldn't have been sitting like a lamb in the corner of the room.

Checking his pouch for any grenades, he found only one. _Great…_ It would have to be enough, but he was realistic enough to know that it took more to kill one of these superzombies. He got to his feet and held the grenade in one hand, the shotgun in the other.

These zombies were not too clever, so he hoped it was just randomly walking around the room, awakened to a thirst for blood by his gunshots and the moaning of his fellow zombie.

The flight of stairs to the second floor was in even worse condition than the one to the first floor. He was just able to regain his balance after one step splintered right under his foot. He looked up at the upper floor and saw a hint of the zombie as it passed the open door to the upper bedroom, the headcrabs on his back chirping along with its moan. It hadn't seen him yet, but it sounded very agitated. Somehow, it knew he was coming…

He pulled the pin out of the grenade with his teeth, waited three seconds and threw it through the door into the room. The blast shook the entire house and the explosion was followed by a wail from the zombie. He heard the wood of the floor splintering as it gave way under the zombie, causing it to fall on the bed of the first floor. The impact was too much for the old wooden floor and it too gave way to the combined weight of the zombie and the bed, crashing down into the ground floor. Gordon stood perplexed on the stairs; this result he had not expected. _This I have to tell Barney… _

He quickly retraced his steps to the first floor bedroom and looked down through the gaping hole to the living room. The zombie lay motionless between the debris of wooden floor panels. The poison headcrabs had survived the fall and were running around in the living room. As soon as they noticed Gordon on the first floor, they screeched and tried to jump up at him, but they couldn't bridge the distance. It took Gordon only three shots from his shotgun to kill them.

He frowned; there seemed to be missing one; there should have been four. Retracing his steps to the second floor staircase, he heard the quick tapping of a headcrab's four limbs on the wooden floor. He climbed all the way up and stood with his back next to the door opening, the sound of the headcrab coming from the room beyond. These things were so damned fast; he would have to be quick.

With one smooth move, he turned into the door opening and pointed his shotgun at the headcrab just as it saw him as well. It screeched almost in victory as it leapt toward Gordon who managed to fire off one shot, hitting the headcrab, but not killing it. An angry screech came from the little black bug as it made ready for a second jump. Gordon pumped another two shells and squeezed the trigger of his shotgun, but it jammed. _Oh crap... _He had no time to remove the two shells as the poison headcrab jumped for Gordon's head, ready to bite him with its poisonous fangs. He ducked just in time, covering his exposed head with his arms as the headcrab overshot him and banged against the wall behind him, stunning it for only a few seconds. But they were just the seconds Gordon needed.

He let the useless shotgun fall from his hands and grabbed the SMG instead. It didn't have a lot of ammunition left, but it better be enough to finish this little f*cker off. He squeezed the trigger and felt the rebound of the gun as it spewed its bullets at the headcrab. Gordon only stopped when he heard the distinctive click-click of an empty mag.

With a sigh of relief, he lowered his gun and let it fall on the floor next to the shotgun. He stood there for a couple of seconds in complete silence, holding his breath, listening for any other headcrab or zombie noises, but he didn't hear any. With the noise he had made, every headcrab that would have come out of those two canisters would have already found their way to him. The house was clear, so there was only thing he needed to do: hide the buggy from sight. The shed would do nicely.

As he moved over to the staircase, he looked outside to see that it had become almost dark, the only light being that of a full moon which illuminated the entire house through the broken windows.

After he had hidden the buggy in the shed, he activated his flashlight and walked back inside the living room of the house, looking down at the dead zombie who wore the remains of a blue jumpsuit. The rebel who had been on the bed of the first floor lay over the couch, eyes still wide open. Gordon walked over to the body and closed the eyes of the rebel. It was all he could do for the poor soul.

He decided that the ground floor probably wasn't the best place of the house to be in, so he went up to the first floor, into the room where the bed had been only twenty minutes ago. He chose the corner furthest away from the door and sat down with his back to the wall.

The shotgun was cleared and recharged quickly; then he laid it on the ground next to him, within easy reach, along with his faithful crowbar. He was going to try to catch some sleep, but if there was one thing he had learned in Black Mesa and his first days in City 17, it was that there was no way that Gordon Freeman was going to sleep with a peace of mind. His dreams were haunted with the ghosts of the past and the faintest noise would make him grab his crowbar and slash out defensively. But he would have to nonetheless, so he closed his eyes and waited for the demons to appear.

The night was restless and short, and by the time the day broke, Gordon was already wide awake. He got up and looked outside. The first signs of the sun rising were visible in the night sky. He didn't have a lot of time to spare and he had to get back on the road. The longer he waited to get to Nova Prospect, the more time the Combine had to do something horrendous to Eli.

Gordon shuddered at the thought. He had only just been reunited with people he cared for. He never thought he would see them again after his one-way trip to Xen. Time... There never was enough time.

"Do you need some more … time, Doctor Freeman?" _What the hell?_ Gordon spun around with his shotgun in his hands, ready to pull the trigger if he saw a man in a blue suit, but he could see no one; the room was empty. He quickly moved to the window of the little room where he had killed the first headcrab and looked outside, expecting to see the Gman disappearing from view, as always, but there was no one. (Gman had been, off course, something Barney had come up with whenever he got Gordon to talk about 'him')

With a sigh, he lowered his shotgun. _My mind must be playing tricks on me_. Even with a few hours of rest (if you could call it rest), he still felt exhausted. As if the few hours had only made him even more tired. How he craved for a good night's rest. He hadn't had any since… well… since he had gotten up for that infamous experiment back in Black Mesa.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He had to get away from this place.

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_So, that was it. Hope you like it as much as I did writing it :-)_


	3. Alone in the Dark: part one

**Alone in the Dark: Part one**

"Alyx!!!" Gordon shouted at the door, keeping his eyes on the corridor ahead of him. "Please tell me you can open this door!" But no reply came from the other side. He checked his ammo. Shotgun: empty, SMG: empty, AR2 pulse-rifle: 30 shots left. Swearing under his breath, he cursed his bad luck; now was definitely not the time to run out of ammo.

He and Alyx were trying their best to get out of City 17, but their train had derailed, leaving them stranded in the middle of a zombie- and antlion-infested neighbourhood somewhere underground. They had been trying to find their way back to the surface, but each escape route they had come upon was riddled with antlions or zombines. It had severely depleted their supplies and they had yet to come upon a rebel hideout or a storage room with some ammo. They had to make each shot count. Luckily, both were expert marksmen.

Gordon heard a noise coming from the other side of the door; he strained his ears to hear some confirmation of his suspicions.

"Gordon! You still there?"

_Alyx!_ He felt so relieved to hear her voice, and it was about time, too. She had been gone for what felt like hours, when in fact only five minutes had passed.

"I think I found something; hold on." Her voice had begun to grow distant, as if she was moving away from the door again. He didn't like this, and he hadn't liked it when she had run off without him. But at that time, it had seemed the logical course of action.

They had found a door out of there, but the problem was that it was locked. It appeared to be a fireproof door, so it's steel structure prevented it from being bashed in with a crowbar or a trashcan. Neither Gordon nor Alyx had any explosives left, so the option of blowing it up was non-existent. There weren't any air vents nearby, so no having Gordon crawling through them, either. But after some searching, aided by the HEV's flashlight, they found a small hole in one of the walls, leading to a chamber next to the corridor where the door left. It was way too small for Gordon to fit, but just big enough for Alyx to squeeze through.

So, here he was now, at the other side of the door, waiting for Alyx to come back and open it … somehow. It was kinda refreshing, the feeling that, for a change, it was not up to him to find a way out because he had the HEV suit, or crawl through small spaces because he had vent-crawling experience, but also kinda disturbing. He didn't want to think about it too much; their first priority was to get to the surface, meet up with Barney and get the hell out of here.

The corridor he was in led back to an underground garage that was partially caved in. They had met a lot of antlions in there, and had it not been for the gravity gun, they probably wouldn't have made it out alive. Somehow the antlions had managed to burrow their way through solid concrete, to the lowest level of the garage, and it had taken Gordon a combination of luck and ability to close the burrows with car wreckages. But already he could hear the antlions fighting against the cars, trying to move them out of their way so they could spawn into the garage again.

Gordon knew it was only a matter of time; time that they were running really short on now.

He suddenly heard a grinding noise coming from the garage: metal scraping against concrete. That could only mean one thing; the antlions had managed to clear a burrow and were on their way. Already he could hear their screeching and the flapping of wings, which meant that several were flying to higher ground, closer to the corridor where he was.

"Alyx!! I really need you to open this door now!!" he shouted, exasperated, at the closed door. But no answer came. "Alyx!! You there??" but still no answer came. _Goddamned_, _why does this always have to happen to me_? He gripped his AR2 pulse-rifle, the only one left with ammo, and slammed the bottom of it repeatedly against the door, hoping that on the other side, Alyx would hear the noise and hurry up.

The screeching came closer, and he could hear the antlions just outside the corridor. He estimated that within five seconds, the first one would appear in the corridor opening, and attack him at first sight.

**4 **seconds. He stopped slamming the pulse-rifle at the door. If Alyx were nearby, she would have heard him by now.

**3 **seconds. He wiped some sweat from his forehead.

**2 **seconds. He slammed the palm of his hand against the door, willing Alyx to open it.

**1 **second. He ran for it.

Gordon didn't wait for the antlions to come into the corridor. Instead, he ran in the opposite direction, away from the antlions, hoping that they wouldn't pursue. Shooting at them would only mean wasting what precious little ammo he had left, and he'd rather keep it for when he would absolutely need it. In this case, he still had the option to run for it, so that was what he was doing right now, as fast as his legs could take him.

Jumping over some fallen debris, he came into an open office and quickly shut the door. It wouldn't keep the antlions out for long, but it would at least give him some time to think about his next move. Not that he had a lot of options, though. Looking around the little office, he saw that there were no windows and no other doors, just a lot of television screens and some filing cabinets. This was just great; he had managed to find himself stuck in the security office with no apparent means of escape. From one predicament right into another, yeah … that was he, all right. He sighed and moved over to the old security station.

He heard the antlions just outside the door, screeching impatiently and slashing their front legs at the door, but it held. For now. Returning his attention to the security station, he saw a small red light flashing on one of the monitors. Apparently, the screens were still getting electricity from somewhere, which indicated that this station had still been used during the Combine occupation. Gordon bent down onto his knees and looked under the table at the wires running through the wall right up to the screens. He was surprised to see that it hadn't been the combine, but the rebels who had been using the station. If rebels had been here, then surely they must have left something behind.

Frantically, he started searching all the filing cabinets, hoping to find something, anything that he could put to use. But, even before he had started to search, he knew that it would be just too good to find something here. He stopped for a moment, resting his arms on an open drawer, suddenly realising that if Alyx managed to get that door open, she would get swamped with antlions. But then again, Alyx was no fool. Surely she would not open the door when hearing that the corridor had been overrun by antlions.

Reassured by that thought, he continued searching through the cabinets, only to find nothing, just as he had expected. This was turning out to be a bad-luck field day; it had to break sometime soon. Frustrated, he slammed the last open drawer shut, causing the cabinet to fall almost on top of him. If only he had his crowbar with him. But he had given it to Alyx so that she could maybe use it as a wedge to pry the door open, which had been surprisingly difficult, and in the end impossible.

He turned his attention back to the security station. There were some keyboards on the desk and just for the sake of it; he pushed one of the buttons. Above him, one of the screens jumped to life, showing the garage. Surprised, he looked at his finger. _Hmm ..._ Returning his attention to the screen, he saw that there weren't any more antlions coming from the burrow, but that could change any minute.

He tapped the same key again, and the screen changed to show a part of this underground maze that he hadn't seen until now. Repeating the process several times, he only stopped when he saw a young woman, running for her life from antlions. It wasn't Alyx and when he looked closer, he noticed that she was wearing the uniform of a rebel, with the lambda signal on her sleeve. _What is she doing down there?_ Curious, he tapped the key again, hoping to see where the girl was heading from a different angle, but he got the first screen with the garage. Going through the sequence a second time, Gordon didn't see her again. Weren't the rebels supposed to clear town?

Puzzled, he walked over to the door and suddenly noticed that he couldn't hear the antlions outside anymore. Grabbing the handle of the door, he carefully opened it to peek through, and couldn't see any antlion. _Where the hell did they go?_ Quickly, he closed it and moved over to the screen. They weren't in the garage either, so something must've attracted their attention, something not in the garage and not in the corridor. Then it hit him: the girl! Could it have been those antlions that had been chasing her? Zapping through the sequence yet again, he couldn't see any antlion or rebel girl on any of the screens. _Damn it_.

With his crowbar in Alyx' possession, his pulse-rifle ammo nearly depleted, it left him with only one weapon: the gravity gun. Not that it was a weapon in the real definition of the word (well … with the exception of that one time in the citadel, off course), but rather a helping device, a giant sling in the hands of an experienced person, and he just happened to be such a person.

He opened the door and grabbed the gravity gun with both hands, ready to sling away any antlion coming his way. As he slowly walked through the corridor, back to the door where he had seen Alyx for the last time, he still neither heard nor saw any trace of the antlions that had previously chased him into the security office. Becoming more puzzled by the second, he turned the corner and saw the door … open. _Alyx …_ Somehow, she had managed to open it. So that was probably where the antlions had gone to.

He stood in front of the door, gravity gun tightly gripped by both hands, his face set to a kind of determination that only few had seen and lived to tell about it. He had left Alyx alone, he wouldn't make the same mistake again. They had entered this together and they would leave together. With that thought in mind, he crossed the threshold.

To be continued …

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_This was turning out to be a long chapter, so I decided to divide it into two pieces. Hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please review!_

_-update- I've corrected a few things that Cheezburgerlover pointed out to me in his review ... oops ... I guess that no matter how many times you reread it, some things still slip through.  
_


	4. Alone in the Dark: part two

**Alone in the Dark: part two**

The room Gordon entered, opened up on a staircase, just as Alyx had said only ten minutes ago. There was a faint sign on the wall with an arrow pointing upwards and a minus three next to it. So they were on level four right now and if the staircase was intact, it could bring them all the way up to level zero, to the exit of this underground garage. But the amount of debris on the stairs suggested otherwise.

Gordon looked up in between the metal staircase, wondering how high he would be able to go. He felt a tang of disappointment when he saw that three levels higher everything was blocked. _Too good to be true_. But at least it would help them get higher up, closer to any other exit they could stumble upon.

They, them … both words implied multiple persons, and right now Gordon was all alone. He needed to find Alyx soon. With every moment they were separated, the chance of either one of them being killed or captured grew bigger. He knew Alyx could take care of herself, but still …

He started climbing the stairs, ready to fire the gravity gun if any threat would reveal itself to him, be it antlion or zombie. Right now, there was a bigger chance of running into antlions than there was of zombies, and he hoped for dear god that it would be antlions. Against them, he could use the gravity gun and turn them on their back for a few seconds, neutralising them just long enough for him to pass through. But zombies were not so vulnerable to the gravity gun. He had to use something to throw at them (preferably a round saw blade) and right now, the only things lying around were rocks.

Turning the corner of the third floor, he saw an antlion lying on the mezzanine in between the two floors. It appeared to be dead, but just to be sure, he threw a little rock at it, hitting it square on. The creature didn't so much as twitch, which confirmed that it was dead. As he got closer, he could see several bullet holes had penetrated its exo-skeleton, greenish goo oozing out of them. It seemed like it had been hit by a nine mm caliber. _Alyx! _

He stepped over the dead antlion, seeing spent shells of her handgun on a few stairs higher up. There were three shells, and remembering that Alyx was even lower on ammo than he was, he just knew that he had to get to her fast. He clenched his teeth and increased his pace. He just hoped that she had been able to find a room in which she could barricade herself long enough for Gordon to get to her.

When he got to the first floor, the rest of the way up was barricaded by the collapsed staircase. Even the access to the hallway was blocked, so he had to retrace his steps back to the door he had passed on the second floor.

He turned into the hallway and quickly scanned both sides. To his left: nothing. To his right: two dead antlions. Both seemed to have been killed by a nine mm caliber. Stepping around them, he saw a trail of greenish ooze leading away and he began to feel very worried. A wounded antlion could only mean that Alyx had run out of ammo and that she had not been able to finish it off. His careful step changed into a slow run, eyes darting from the trail on the ground to the area ahead of him.

And then he saw it: little drops of blood on the floor and a slash of that green ooze on the wall.

But it was not the green blood on the wall that interested him the most; it was the few drops on the floor. He crouched and reached out with his hand to one of the drops, wanting to see if they were real or if his eyes were deceiving him. His hand hesitated a bit, some part of him not wanting to know the answer to his question: could it be Alyx's blood?

Just as he wanted to rub his finger in the drops to see how fresh it was, a loud screech came from behind him. His skills, honed by dozens of combat experiences, made him react almost instantly. He rolled forward, increasing the distance between him and the antlion. Turning towards it, he saw that it was wounded. (This must be the one that left the trail in the corridor.) He quickly targeted it with his gravity gun and pulled the trigger, a yellow beam of energy shooting at the alien beast. It was hurtled backwards and it ended up on its back, its legs desperately trying to regain footage on the ground.

It reminded Gordon of a turtle turned upside down, the poor creature doomed to die unless someone turned it on its belly again. The antlion was not as helpless as the turtle though; it only needed a few seconds to regain its balance and to turn itself.

Gordon ran towards it, knowing that he had only seconds to deliver the killing blow. He dropped the gravity gun on the floor and his hand moved to the side of his right leg, intent on grabbing his crowbar. But just as his hand grabbed air instead of a crowbar, he remembered that he didn't have it on him. Skidding to a halt, his foot slipped on the green ooze on the floor and Gordon fell backwards, cursing loudly.

The antlion was on its feet again and charged right at him only to be met by three shots from the pulse rifle. It wailed in agony as it fell to the floor, its leg still twitching.

Gordon was breathing heavily, the pulse rifle still aimed at the antlion that was lying just in front of him, its front legs almost touching his. It had been a close call; too close for this comfort. But this had not been the first time, and he knew that it certainly was not going to be the last.

Slowly, he got to his feet and turned around, heading back to the place where he had seen the drops of blood, the pulse rifle hanging loosely by his side. His right hand moved to his thigh, to where his crowbar normally would be. _Note to self: never give my crowbar away ever again!_

This time, his hand went directly to the drops without hesitation. Rubbing a bit of blood between two fingers, he could see that it was still fresh, confirming his worst suspicion: It probably was Alyx' blood; she was injured.

Standing up, he noticed that he wasn't in the corridor anymore. The trail of green ooze and the drops of blood had caught his attention so intensely, that he hadn't noticed he had entered another room. Something he had to stop doing because it had gotten him more than once in dangerous situations he could have avoided.

"_Sometimes, you're as absentminded as Doctor Kleiner." _Alyx had said on one occasion. She was right. Even in Black Mesa, the two of them had the reputation of being accident prone; that you should be careful whenever they were conducting an experiment together. And no thanks to Barney, it was a reputation he had gotten very quickly.

Gordon looked around the room, or rather small garage as it turned out to be. There was a rusted old car, some containers and a bicycle. But no sign of Alyx. He looked at the floor; maybe there were some more drops of blood that would give any indication of where she had been heading, but he didn't see any. Either she had bandaged the wound, or it was just a small cut, which reassured him quite a bit.

There was an iron gate in the opposite wall on the left side and a turning wheel next to it. Gordon walked over to it. Maybe Alyx had opened the gate and gone through it. There was only one way to find out.

He grabbed it with both hands and started turning it; however, years of non-use had taken its toll on the mechanism. The wheel was all rusted and the chains connecting it to the gate were old and fragile. He had to use a lot of force to turn it and he began to wonder if Alyx would have been able to turn it at all.

The gate was opening slowly and it was making a lot of noise. About half way up he heard another sound aside from the creaking of the gate: the familiar shrieking of antlions. He peeked around the edge of the gate and saw to his horror that a ramp lead back into the garage he and Alyx had escaped from only fifteen minutes ago. _Oh crap._ His hands let go of the wheel, which normally would close the gate instantly, but because everything was so rusted, the wheel didn't turn back automatically and the gate remained stuck half way up with antlions getting closer by the second. _Not again …_

Quickly, he started turning the wheel in the other direction, trying to close the gate. It worked, but very slowly; too slowly. He didn't have the luxury of time to close the gate the old-fashioned way so, instead, he started kicking at the metal chains connecting the wheel to the gate mechanism. It was so rusted that it would certainly have to break under the constant kicking of a reinforced HEV boot, closing the gate instantly.

The equipment protested against the harassment it was receiving from Gordon's boot, and he saw that it was beginning to break; a few more kicks should do the job.

Keeping an eye on the part of the ramp he could see, he could hear the antlions coming dangerously close. _Oh, for crying out loud, break damnit! _After a few seconds, he saw the first of what would certainly be many antlions. He paused his kicking for a few seconds and aimed the gravity gun at the antlion. Shooting it back into the garage, it took two other antlions with it. He decided to keep the gravity gun in his hands, aimed at the ramp, while he continued kicking at the chains. Two more antlions came into view, and as soon as Gordon saw them, they were hurtled back to where they had came from. Then, finally, the chain broke and the gate came rushing down.

He leaned on the wheel for a few seconds, catching his breath, but already he could hear other antlions outside the gate, slashing their front legs at it. Recognising a certain other predicament some ten minutes ago, he decided not to stick around to see if the gate would hold like the door had.

He ran back into the hallway, where he had seen the two dead antlions. He realised that Alyx probably had done the same thing. But he was still wondering if she had tried to open that gate and if she had managed to turn that wheel. He decided to make a mental note and ask her when … if he would see her again. No … definitely when he'd see her again. He had to find her so that they could deliver the message to White forest.

The other side of the hallway he had dismissed earlier opened up on a long room, with a double door opening up on another passageway. Not wanting to be caught up in the same error, he scanned the entire room before entering it. Near the other side of the big room, he saw some antlions, but even from this distance he could clearly see that they were dead. He counted five of them.

Carefully, he started moving to the other side, keeping an eye on his surroundings and the many shadows that were cast on the floor by the flickering lights. Somewhere in the middle of the room, there was an opening leading into obscurity. Deciding that it might be a good idea to steer clear of it (you never know what could be hiding in complete darkness), he walked around it in a big circle, keeping an eye on the door-opening. But then his foot suddenly hit an empty basket, sending it flying, and in doing so, making quite the racket. It was immediately followed by the wails of zombies awakening. _Just great …_

Gordon decided not to wait for what would come out of the dark opening and ran away from it. He could already hear several zombines pursuing him. As he was getting closer to the double door, he aimed his gravity gun and shot a beam of yellow energy at it, throwing the doors open in his path. He switched the gravity gun for the pulse rifle, knowing that he could not outrun these zombines and that this was the time to use what little ammo he had left.

As he passed through the open double doors, he turned around, grabbed both doors and slammed them shut, just as the zombines wanted to pass through them to get to Gordon.

Two zombines slammed into the double doors, the sheer impact of them shattering the two doors and sending a volley of broken glass at Gordon. He held his arms in front of his face to protect it against the shards of glass, but quickly recovered and aimed the pulse rifle at the two zombines that were already getting back to their feet.

He quickly finished off the first one and changed his aim at the second one, only to see to his horror that it had pulled out a grenade. Running backwards, he began shooting at the zombine, trying to kill it so it would drop the grenade. But it followed him; the tick of the grenade going faster until, after a few seconds, it blew up.

Gordon was too close to the blast. It threw him against the wall just behind him, the back of his head slamming against it. The pulse rifle dropped out of his hands, and he felt all feeling in his legs disappear. He slowly dropped to the floor, his head leaving a trail of blood behind on the wall. He could hear the HEV suit whispering something in his ear, but he couldn't discern the words. As he was slowly drifting into the darkness, he saw one of the zombines head straight for him, but just before it could slash him to death, he heard gunfire and saw the zombine fall to the ground.

The last thing he saw was the face of a girl shouting something at him. But it wasn't Alyx …

To be concluded.

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_so, instead of a two parter, this turned out to be a three parter :-P. Please review and also feel free to leave any constructive criticism!_


	5. Alone in the Dark: part three

_Sorry guys that you had to wait a few months to get this, I've been very busy in real life._

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**Alone in the Dark: part three**

"Hey!"

Where did that come from?

"Wake up!"

Was someone speaking to him? Gordon tried to open his eyes but found it surprisingly difficult. This was strange; he could barely remember where he was or what he was supposed to be doing right now.

"Oh. Guess I have no choice, huh."

Choice? What choice? He was still trying to wake up to see who was talking to him, where he was and what this 'choice' thing was, when he suddenly felt this weird sensation on his cheeks. _Is someone slapping my cheeks?_ By about the third time he felt the weird sensation, everything came back to him and he managed to open his eyes. There was a woman perched over him with a look of surprise on her face.

"Took you long enough, now could you please let go of my arm?"

_Her arm?_ He looked to her right arm and saw that he was holding it ... rather tightly.

"Any time now, please ... I don't have all day you know." And as to emphasize it, she tried to pull her arm away.

"Oh, sorry," Gordon said to her, quickly letting go of her arm. He tried to sit up, but she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back to the floor. He found it surprisingly difficult to resist her as a wave of nausea hit over him. He was glad that she had pushed him back down; otherwise he would have just fallen down again like an idiot. Something he tried to avoid but was often unsuccessful at, much to the amusement of a certain person whose name begins with a B.

"You got hit pretty badly on the head. Just try to lay down for just a couple more minutes. That magic suit of yours should do the rest." She stood up and walked away from him. Gordon closed his eyes again and massaged his temples with his fingers.

The last thing he could clearly remember was the zombine with the exploding grenade in its hands. It must've thrown him back against the wall and knocked him out cold. His hand moved over to the back of his head. It still felt a bit sore and he could feel a crust, but the throbbing pain was already slowly disappearing. Guess that magic suit of his was indeed doing its job.

He tried to sit up again, and managed to do it without feeling any nausea or having a woman's hand trying to push him back down again. He looked around, but everything was blurry. Blinking did nothing to clear the picture when he suddenly realized: _my glasses!_ Slightly panicked, he started feeling around him on the floor; maybe the girl had put them somewhere near him.

"Looking for these?" The sudden question coming from behind took him by surprise, which he was able to mask, or so he hoped.

"Yeah ... thanks," he said when she handed him his glasses back. He examined them closely, hoping that the blast hadn't damaged them. Luckily they didn't even have a crack, which was rather amazing considering all the things he had put them through. Putting them back on, he could now clearly see his surroundings. He was in a medium sized room packed with crates. In the far right corner he could see a radio and a television screen, with a sleeping mat next to it. He sort of already knew the answer when he asked: "Where am I?"

The girl had started rummaging through some of the crates and didn't immediately answer him. When he was about to repeat the question, she turned towards him with some pulse rifle ammo in her hands. She threw it at him which Gordon aptly caught.

"This is an old hideout, a part of one of the first attempts to build the underground escape route. It's still safe; don't know how long that will last though, with all these zombies and antlions out there." Gordon nodded; this was probably the place that he and Alyx had also been looking for on their way to the surface.

He tried to stand, confident that nothing would hold him back. But he hadn't counted on the dizziness. Putting both his hands on a crate for support, he closed his eyes for a few seconds and felt the dizziness slowly disappearing. He let go of the crate and stretched his arms behind his neck as though he was just shaking off some sleep. The only thing that reminded him of his unfaithful encounter with the wall was a slight headache but he could live with that. He knew that he wouldn't have to support it for long.

"How long was I out?"

"Oh, only for about ten minutes or so." Ten whole minutes? He shook his head, thinking about Alyx and where she could possibly be.

"I guess you want some more ammo for that arsenal you're carrying?" She asked while nodding her head in his general direction. Gordon absentmindedly nodded, still thinking about Alyx. "Most of these crates contain medical supplies and rations, but some of them still have some ammo." She waved her hand at some crates in the far west corner. "Take a look in there; those might have what you need." She returned her attention to the crate she was rummaging through. "I'm Sally, by the way."

Gordon was just about to say 'I'm Gordon' when she beat him to it. "And you're Gordon Free-man," putting the emphasis on the last syllable of his last name, with a mocking undertone as though trying to imitate the Vortigaunts way of speech. "I knew who you were from the minute I saw that orange suite; kinda hard to miss."

The more the girl was speaking to Gordon, the more he became intrigued with her. This was not your ordinary citizen turned rebel after he and Alyx had blown up Nova Prospekt.

It was very easy to tell apart those that were already with the resistance before Nova Prospekt, and those that had joined after the rebellion really got into the open. The latter were still timid, didn't dare take initiative and needed someone to look after them and tell them what to do, while those already in the resistance knew exactly what to do, when and where. The girl was without a doubt a member of the first group.

The crates she had waved her hand at, didn't have anything special, though: two mags for the SMG, a pack for his shotgun, and some pulse rifle ammo, but the rest it was as empty as all the other crates he had passed in this god forsaken underground maze. But at least it was something. Way better than just the 30 rounds of pulse rifle ammo he had only a dozen minutes ago.

He sat down on one of the crates and began filling up the shotgun. The girl was going from crate to crate, sometimes swearing, sometimes 'ahah!'-ing. As he looked at her, he just knew that he had seen her somewhere before. Maybe it was just a Deja-vu feeling, or maybe he had indeed seen her somewhere else before. The problem was that in the past few days he had met so many rebels, he forgot their names and faces as soon as they were out of sight.

"I guess that's all," she said to no one in particular as she stood gazing at a crate with her hands set on her hips. It reminded him of Alyx … _Alyx …_

"Have you by any chance seen or heard Alyx down here?" Her head turned towards him with a surprised look on her face.

"You mean Alyx Vance? She was with you?"

"She was, yeah. We got separated two levels down, about .." he tilted his head upwards, calculating how long he had been out with how long he had been looking for her. " … 25 minutes ago." She seemed to be thinking, walking back and fro.

"Well, before I rescued you from the mad clutches of a zombine." She was apparently taking pride in it. "I heard some gunshots. By the sound of it, it was only a small handgun. I thought it was one of those Civil protection traitors who was down there, so I didn't investigate further. Besides, every member of the resistance was ordered to go to the train station."

Gordon clicked the last magazine on his scavenged ammunition belt and stood up from the crate. "Could you show me where that was?"

Sally threw him a look of surprise: "You're going after her? I doubt she's even still alive with all these antlions, zombine and occasional combine around here. It's madness." She shook her head but when she saw the determined look on Gordon's face, she seemed to soften up a bit. "I suppose you know what you're doing." And with that said, she took the shotgun in her hands and pumped two shells into the loading chamber.

"Follow me."

_to be concluded_

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_okay, I think I will get a few angry looks now :-P. to be honest, it was just too long ago that I had posted something, and I wanted to give you this, to show you that I am working on it, albeit slowly. next chapter will definitely be the last in the 'Alone in the Dark'-arc, and this is a promise._


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